


Bug Bites

by LyonessofAvalon



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Emotional Support, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, F/M, Fluffy Smut, Hand Jobs, Hotel Sex, Missing Scene, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyonessofAvalon/pseuds/LyonessofAvalon
Summary: Scully needs reassurance during her first mission in the field. Mulder cannot believe that she needs it from him.Trust comes early in a partnership when it comes at all.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Bug Bites

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another work set in scene gap of the pilot episode. I fell back in love with the X-Files this winter and have been writing ever since.

He hears a pounding on the door. It is around…11 o’clock and the power flickered out only a minute before. He grabs a candle from the bedside table and opens the door to Scully in a robe, her eyes wide.

“I want you to look at something,” she says quickly, and comes in at his offer.

She slides by him and it is distracting. He has to push the door closed a second time before it catches. He locks it.

She half turns to him in the dim light, and fumbling, pulls at the knot of the bathrobe. She doesn’t register him tucking in to look at her, utterly bewildered. He never takes his eyes off her, the flickering candlelight throwing shadows around them both. Her skin glows in the dimness.

She is still so new, a mystery to unravel. He knows she was assigned to him, to watch him. He is not sure if she is biased against him, if she will be fair-minded or prejudiced. He thought this would be a simple enough case to gauge her intentions, but she has so far remained unknowable.

She has turned slightly, gesturing at her lower back. He returns to himself, still unsure of what she wants. In the soft light he suddenly spots the raised bumps. He kneels, his breathing hitching. He places a hand on her bare back, just at the band of her underwear. He can feel her tense beneath his fingertips, and he leans closer to examine the marks.

“What are they? Mulder, what are they?” He can hear the panic in Scully’s voice.

He brings the candle closer. He lets out the breath he had been holding.

“Mosquito bites,” he says. He is sure the smile is in his words as well as on his lips. He is relieved that his partner was not abducted, but the smallest, most shameful part of him regrets it a bit as well. Because her fear means she is open to the ideas, it means she is willing to believe.

“Are you sure?” she asks, staring at him, fear still clouding her eyes.

“Yeah. I got eaten up a lot myself out there.”

He pushes to his feet and staggers as she flings herself into his arms, a muffled “Oh thank God” into his chest. She is trembling. He strokes her hair, and in a fit of the unknown, presses his lips to the top of her head.

“You ok?” his hand on her shoulder, his mouth in her hair. Her breath is hot through his shirt. He wants to stay like this. It’s a feeling he is not accustomed to.

“Yes,” she says, and pulls away, but not out of his arms.

“You’re shaking,” he says, not letting go.

“I need to sit down,” she whispers, looking up at him, lips parted just slightly. He guides her gently to the chair next to the door and sits down as well. They sit in silence, taking comfort in the nearness of another person.

When she stands, he does too. She steps closer to him. They would be nose to nose if she were taller. She presses up on her tiptoes and as though in a dream he dips his head to meet her. She tastes like salt and fear and passion. He wonders if she wants to feel alive, to feel fully present in her own body.

Her dressing gown is open, her breasts pressing into his chest, covered by only thin slips of fabric. She slides the dressing gown off her shoulders again, slower this time. He kisses her again, harder this time. She bends to it, hands at the hem of his shirt, working it over his head.

She slides her hands up his chest. He twists her around and kisses the back of her neck, trailing his hands over her bare arms. He moves slowly, lips moving to her shoulders, the center of her back, lower. His hands follow, sliding down her waist.

He kneels at her back once more, hands hot at her hips. His fingers skim along the mosquito bites, play with the waistband of her underwear. He lets his fingers linger this time. He places a kiss on her back, then another. His mouth is as hot as his hands, his breath tickling slightly. He gently rotates her so that her front is to him, kissing along her hipbone, her stomach, her thighs.

He looks up at her, eyes dark below his lashes, hands still pressed firm against her with his fingers splayed over her hips, gripping her ass. She looks back, eyes bright, one hand buried in his hair the other on his shoulder. Her breathing is faster. So is his. She nods slightly.

He kisses her over her underwear, mouth moving lower, warm and soft and insistent. He presses a kiss to her core and he sucks in slightly, enjoying the scent of her. Gently, gently he slides the white fabric down and she obligingly steps out one foot at a time, bracing a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t stop kissing her, lips over her clit and she moans. He tongues at it, and sucks, and harder when she moves, pushing towards him. Smiling, he does it again and wraps his left arm around her lower back to hold her up He drags his right hand along her thigh, fingers tapping and teasing and pushing into her.

She is wet and he slips two fingers out and in again, never moving his face away. He flicks out with his tongue and she gasps. He is heavy and hard between his legs, seeing her like this, milky white skin turning red in places, her blue eyes full of trust and want and need, all fear gone. He guides her carefully over to the bed. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, she falls gracelessly onto it.

“Do you like that?” He asks softly, unable to help himself. His voice vibrates against her. His fingers move faster, in and out and in and out and he sucks on her clit and repeats the movement with his tongue, and she is shaking and gasping and coming, saying his name over and over.  
He kisses her core again and slides up alongside her, turning them so that her head is on the pillow.

He pulls a leg over her and braces himself on one elbow and kisses her mouth again. Her hands are tangled in his hair and she can taste herself. She can feel him against her thigh. She reaches down and strokes him with one soft finger.

“Scully,” he breathes, gasping.

She nudges him over so that his back is instead to her chest, a mirror of how they stood. He can feel her breasts against his back, soft. She wraps her hand, small and warm, around him, moving her wrist up and down. This time, he can only lay there as she twists her hand slightly, moves slower, or faster, or rolls her thumb over the tip of him. He can’t help thrusting into her hand and she laughs under her breath, just a little.

“Do you like that?” she turns his words back at him.

He kisses her neck in response, his head tilted up to do so, eyes bright and calm. She slides away from his back and pushes at his shoulder. He lets her guide him onto his back and she straddles his thighs. Both hands wrap around him this time, teasing him, stroking him. Her eyes travel up from her own hands to meet his gaze.

“Thank you,” she says. “Thank you for bringing me back to myself.”

Her hand moves faster, focusing now on what made his breath hitch, his hips push into her hand. She feels him taut as a bowstring ready for release. She presses her lips just below his ear and kisses down to his shoulder, never slowing. She can feel it when he crests, the shudder, the warm wetness down her hand. He is repeating her name, calling her beautiful and perfect and so many other words.

Later, she will curl up under his covers, and he will sit on the floor telling her his story. But for now, he holds her close to his chest. And he knows that this is how it will be, Scully close to his chest, her hair in his mouth, his hands around her, their legs and fingers tangled together.

They never bring it up, after. It stays quiet, filling the inches between them. She is more careful after this night and stays a little way away from him, reserved. But she can’t help tilting towards him, like a planet orbiting a star.


End file.
